


The skies will break for you, my friend / The waves will part, the seas will rend

by Caracalliope



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crying, Friendship is Magic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope vs. Despair, amazing life hacks for the home-stuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caracalliope/pseuds/Caracalliope
Summary: ~June vs. The Forces of Depression, in three rounds.~
Relationships: June Egbert & Rose Lalonde, June Egbert/Karkat Vantas, June Egbert/Terezi Pyrope
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. prelude I

She _could_ just leave the house through the front door.

It’s around noon and the streets are deserted. So even if her hair looks weird and there’s a stain on her sleeve - yesterday’s hot chocolate, she hopes that’s what it is - even if she looks like a failure of a god, she could walk or float out the front door and nobody would care.

She’s been thinking about this for more than a day. She hasn’t been sleeping for more than a day, which is probably some kind of progress considering all the sleeping she’d been doing before. Her eyes feel dry and too-big, everything’s a little out of proportion. She doesn’t think she’s got agora phobia or anything like that, she’s just really gotten used to staying on the wrong side of that door.

She touches the doorknob, thinks of something Rose told her the other day. You should start abusing the privileges of your divinity and play to win or something like that. It sounded fancy and grand, everything June has _not_ been feeling lately.

But it does give her a stupid idea, and stupid ideas are the only way to win this stupid game against her brain. June pretends there is slime on the door, a trap that any reasonable person would prefer to avoid. What’s a good way around it? The windows, of course. 

June is more than just a reasonable person - she is a reasonable god, and she can choose any window she likes. Her attic’s got a small round one, but it’s not too small. She squeezes out, basks in the thought that nobody would think to look up and search for her up there. Feeling free and only a little ridiculous, she drifts on up to seek cover in the clouds.


	2. prelude II

The problem now is that June can’t stop crying, like a doof.

June has grown into someone who reads movie blurbs. It's just that Earth C is _really_ multicultural and sometimes she isn’t sure what the point is in some of the movies she watches, so it’s better to go in prepared. She knew this particular one was a tearjerker. She just didn’t think it’d jerk her this hard. And now Karkat feels like a jerk! June can tell! And June is behaving like a jerk, or at least like someone who will never get to have the multi-troll sexperience she’s been thinking about.

She tries to communicate some of this. She manages an ugly hiccup and catches a glimpse of Karkat looking miserable. June would totally give him a hug if she weren’t lost in the Swamp of Snot and Salt right now.

It’s just that the movie was so, so sad. The heroic carapacian courier won’t ever reunite with her sea-dwelling wife and parcel. And she’ll never get a title or acknowledgement of her hard work.

“Can I, like,” Karkat says, and at least he’s loud enough to hear over the teary wheezing. “Is it okay if I get you some water?”

Oh, June’s legs are still hooked over him. Right. That was super cozy, initially. June rolls to the side, floats down to the floor. She remembers worrying about getting stains on the carpet this morning! Fun, red and teal stains.

Karkat scurries away, and he’s nice enough that June wants to sob about it. She hides her face in the crook of her elbow, grasping for the calm she'd lived in until only a few weeks ago. She's floating upwards now, which is probably fine.

"You're going to get the ceiling wet," Karkat grumbles. He's back! With water and those cute little mint candies he is known to use before makeouts. "Come down, idiot, let me distract you already."


	3. deluge

EB: i’m starting to remember things that shouldn’t have been forgettable.

CG: LIKE MEDIOCRE HUMAN TITANIC?

EB: like how to play the pipe organ in my imagination. the way the fake real vibrations spread from the organ to my fingertips, and then to that place where i keep the windy thing.

CG: DO YOU MEAN YOUR BELLOWSACS?

EB: no, i do not. but want to try watching mediocre human titanic again? i won’t fall asleep this time. not even if you keep telling me all about how human jack and human rose should have been moirails.

CG: IT WAS A *DIAMOND* NECKLACE, JUNE.

EB: i know. i know it was. that is an observation too monumental to forget.

She should probably learn all the names of different cloud types, as a professional courtesy to herself. But the point is that there’s those plump confident ones, and then there’s the horizontal wispy ones that look like someone got dramatic with water colors. June likes the plump ones a little more.

She practices dissolving them and it doesn’t feel as good as she imagined it would. But she can change the plump ones into wisps and vice versa. That feels much better. Then she lets the winds do whatever they want. She flies through the clouds and hopes they’ll get her face damp and cold.

* * *

EB: do you think we should have made them graves? empty ones, i mean. or some kind of a museum or something. the makers of the makers memorial house, weepy fun times for the whole family.

TT: After all the grief I gave my mom over her cat mausoleum, performing any kind of symbolic burial rite might kill me with irony. A Just death, but narratively cheap.

EB: hah.  
EB: like making a clown party to commemorate my dad.

TT: I will help you organize a clown mausoleum soiree if you want one.

EB: no, let’s have dave do it. he could combine his innate talents for death and tomfoolery.

TT: (A burn!) Maybe he could hire professional mourners, adept at the art of mime striptease.

EB: all the clothing stays on during mime strip tease. it’s what dad would have wanted.

As a kid, June used to do this thing that was objectively weird. She’d narrate her childhood to herself, like an outsider. Or like that trailer voice person. _In a world… where fathers practice the art of japery behind suburban doors. A young man stands in his bedroom._ It was funny, it’s still funny, but it’s not easy to remember things from the inside, as they really happened.

She does have some memories that aren’t flat and framed like photos. In one of them, there's a melody. Dad was an accomplished gentleman of many elegant talents, but not so great when it came to music. But when he taught her to play Happy Birthday, she was still tiny and couldn't tell that he sucked at it. He hugged her tight, kissed the top of her head. She doesn’t remember what he said exactly - something about being proud or about the future - but it doesn’t matter as much as she used to think. The things they did together matter more.

* * *

EB: i have a hive now! it was a wise and adult way to spend all this free god money.

GC: 1 KNOW TH3Y 4R3 C4LL3D HOUS3S, J4CK4SS.

EB: no, it’s an actual hive. looks like it was built by a swarm of angry ants, all aged two sweeps or below. every block is hexagonal, i think that’s the architect’s quirk or something.

GC: WHY 4 H1V3?

EB: i wanted a change. i never had a hive before. and neither did you, so you should come home and move in.

GC: WH4T?

EB: living in a tree like a deranged murder owl doesn’t count.

GC: K1SM3S3S N3V3R L1V3 TOG3TH3R.

EB: aw, are you scared? of the kismesis police?

GC: YOU S4Y TH4T L1K3 P1TCH P4TROLS D1DNT 3X1ST ON 4LT3N14.

EB: fuck alternia. and fuck earth also, for balance. if you don’t get here soon, i will paint your room the sludgiest colors and film myself doing it.

GC: >:[

EB: how do you feel about rotting frog green?

It would be stupid to have a room in her new home just for crying, so June uses the attic. It’s a nice attic though, with a window Jade extended just for her. June has brought up a weeping couch and actual smelling salts - well, bath salts, whatever. There’s a little fridge she’s pretty sure runs on magic. The Dad-like things she has are up here, and her posters, and Jade’s old reminder strings and Roxy’s regicide sword. Some photos from Davepeta, which they signed like a doofus. June’s not sure if she’s a memento kind of person, but she likes having these things to touch. She doesn’t want to overwrite the past again and make real things disappear.

She’s gone through times of crying and times of draught, and she thinks she’s got a nice balance now. She stretches out on the couch, which Terezi picked out and that’s why it has little sheep on it that look like dicks. It’s nice to the touch. Her fingers run across the white sheep on their blue field, and when the tears start flowing, it just feels like taking a big breath and letting it out.


End file.
